Authors: Trisha Merry
So the next day, I rang the police station.
‘You’ve beaten us to it, Mrs Merry,’ they told me. ‘We were just about to call you. We’ve had a breakthrough, and we’re ninety per cent sure we’ve found
the culprit. Can we come round and explain?’
‘So you see,’ said the male police officer I’d met at the school the previous day, ‘we just had a hunch about this case. One of my colleagues attended
when you had all that trouble with a woman who was drunk and hurling milk-bottles at your house. Do you remember?’
‘I’ll never forget!’
‘Well, she has a cousin, who’s known to us. He’s a bouncer at a local club. We took him in for questioning this morning, and she’s also been interviewed at the station by
two of my colleagues. I’ve just heard that she admitted putting him up to it. He was the one who phoned you and they’ve both been arrested. They planned it together, to frighten
you.’
‘Well, they succeeded,’ I said with feeling. ‘I’ve never been so frightened in my life.’
‘So, have the police charged Kathleen and her cousin?’ Mike asked me when I phoned him at work to tell him the mystery was solved.
‘Not yet. They wanted me to take her to court and I said no.’
‘Why on earth did you refuse?’
‘Because Gilroy has a hard enough time as it is, without us making it even worse. If she was put in prison, he wouldn’t see her at all. It might be hard for us to swallow, but
she’s all he’s got, apart from us.’
We finally heard that the police had taken action themselves and secured a lifetime ban on Kathleen Dobbs coming down our road at all, on pain of imprisonment. I had to agree that I was pleased
about that. It made us all feel safer.
If she wanted to see Gilroy, she had to book a time with the local authority. Then his social worker would come and fetch him and supervise their visit at the family centre.
Unfortunately, that made things even worse for Gilroy. She would arrange a date and time and I’d get Gilroy ready to be picked up. He and his social worker would be waiting at the family
centre and she didn’t turn up. This happened nearly every time. The poor lad hardened and grew more defiant and angry with the world every day. He was a troubled boy and we had to help him as
best we could.
All the children we had at this time had been with us for at least two years, so it was the most settled we had ever been. Others had come and gone, and we currently had one
place, but we thought maybe it was a good time to think about taking all the children away on a holiday in the summer. It would be the first time, so it would need a lot of planning.
‘What about Bournemouth?’ asked Mike.
‘Good idea. We’ll need at least two caravans,’ I pointed out. ‘It will be quite a squash . . .’
‘Hey kids,’ said Mike at teatime the next day. ‘Would you like us all to go on holiday together this year?’
‘YES!’ they all shouted in unison, highly excited, jumping and laughing and dancing and cheering . . . all except for Daisy, who stood back and watched all the fun – with a
big, beaming smile on her face. So it was unanimous.
Now all we had to do was organise the finer details . . . and pray hard not to lose or maim anybody for the whole holiday. Quite a daunting prospect!
‘I
’ve heard such good things about you,’ said the educated voice on the phone. I know you’re a foster-parent, but would you
consider child-minding?’
‘Well, I started off with child-minding.’
‘Please say you’ll do it. I’m at my wits’ end with my eighteen-month-old. He’s adorable when he’s asleep, but a nightmare all the rest of the time. And I have
to work.’
‘What do you do?’
‘I’m a university researcher, so even when I can work at home, I do have to concentrate. I need a wonderful fairy godmother to take Max on and tame him. I know that’s a huge
ask, but I wonder if perhaps you could have him for a few days to start with, and see how it goes?’
‘Well, maybe, but I think I’d better discuss it with my husband.’ I didn’t tell her that Mike always said yes – he must be the most tolerant man ever.
‘And could you maybe . . . I know it’s a bit of a cheek, really . . . but as you are a foster parent, do you think it might be possible . . . if you’ve got enough space . . .
to have Max to stay over occasionally, to give me a break?’ She paused. ‘Of course, that bit is not essential. If you can only do the day-care, that would be great for me anyway, but if
you could do the odd night as well, you would be my lifesaver.’
‘OK, I’ll talk it over with Mike. Can I let you know tomorrow?’
‘Yes, perfect. The sooner the better. My name is Vanda, by the way, and this is my phone number . . . Thank you so much for not saying no. I can’t tell you what a relief it is that
you’re even considering him.’
She sounded such a lovely person, this woman who had phoned out of the blue. But experience had taught me to be wary. I have to say, I don’t always learn from my mistakes, although I do
try to; so I had an idea.
‘I know you said you have a lot of work on, but if you can spare half an hour this afternoon, why not bring Max round for a cup of tea? That way I can meet you both and it will be easier
to tell my husband about you.’
‘Well, that was an interesting visit,’ I told Mike later on. ‘I could hear this child screaming and kicking off inside their car as soon as they turned into
our drive.’
‘You mean something more than interesting, don’t you?’ Mike knows me so well. ‘I bet you were doing your amateur psychology thing on them!’
I laughed. ‘Yes, you’re right. But it was fascinating to see just how naughty that child is when his mother is in the room. He was throwing things everywhere, having tantrums, trying
to hold her mouth closed to stop her speaking and bawling loud enough to disturb Edie and Frank next door. But the moment his mother left the room to go to the loo, he immediately became a
sweet-natured, smiling cherub who played beautifully with me. As soon as she came back into the playroom, he switched back to being a little devil.’
‘Are you sure you want to take on this Jekyll-and-Hyde child?’ He looked doubtful. ‘After all, you’ve already got your hands full with Gilroy, AJ, Paul and all the rest.
Why make life harder for yourself?’
‘Well . . . I liked Vanda, and I liked her son, when she wasn’t with him. I want to watch him, to see how his brain works. And anyway, I love a challenge.’
‘You can say that again!’
‘So you don’t mind?’
‘Of course not. When did I ever mind?’
The first day I had Max, he was awful when he arrived, but as soon as the front door closed behind his mother, it was like pressing the ‘off’ switch. This lovely
boy with blond curls was the most amenable child ever.
‘Come on, Max,’ I took him into the playing end of the kitchen. We got out some chunky wooden shapes and made a funny building, then we got some cars out to whiz and clatter around
on the tiles.
‘Would you like something to eat?’ I asked.
He nodded.
‘Some cereal?’
‘Es pees.’
He hardly stopped smiling and he was obviously enjoying the toys, playing happily with our other pre-school children, four-year-olds Laurel, Alfie and Mandy. In fact, he charmed them
completely.
‘Right, you four,’ I said. ‘It’s time to clear away the toys, so we can go out for a walk.’
I was impressed to see Max toddling about, dextrously picking up cars from all around the kitchen and putting them in the toy box.
I waited all day for this obnoxious tearaway to emerge, but there was no sign of the bad Max. He was obviously saving that for later. His mother was due to come for him at six. So after
he’d had his tea with us, he went and sat on the window seat in our hall. Daisy and Sheena sat on either side, doing rhymes and actions with him to keep him amused. He giggled away until he
heard the sound of his mother’s car.
I saw the switch-on moment when he turned into his tempestuous alter-ego. Before I could even get to the door, he was banging and kicking it. And when I opened it, he started hitting and kicking
his mother, shouting and roaring in his fury. The girls and I were gobsmacked.
‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry. Has he been like this all day?’
‘No. Honestly. He’s been as good as gold. Absolutely brilliant. No trouble at all. I can’t believe the sudden change in him.’
‘So can I bring him again tomorrow?’ She looked doubtful.
‘Yes, of course.’
When he arrived the next morning, it was bedlam when he came in with his mother, and as soon as she was out of the door, it was as if someone had sprinkled angel-dust on him. Again, he was
smiley and gleeful all day. Whatever was it that changed him in a flash like that?
Over the next few weeks, we even had him one day each weekend. We took him swimming, to the park, to the zoo, to all the places the kids wanted to go, and he was never any trouble. Everybody
loved him, except Gilroy who was always waiting for the chance . . . so we made sure to keep them apart. Even strangers would come up to us and say what a lovely boy he was, with his blond curls
and dimples, and how well behaved he was.
At first, I assumed his mum was a single mother, but she had a good-looking young man with her one day. ‘This is Max’s dad,’ she said. ‘My husband Mark. He’s a
musician.’ He smiled as we shook hands.
The following Friday evening, when Vanda came to pick up Max, she said, ‘We’ve decided to go on a week’s break to Scotland. It’s a spur-of-the moment trip. Mark’s
not keen, because Max is such hard work, but maybe he’ll be better when we’re away from home.’ She paused, looking uncertain. ‘The only trouble is, Max doesn’t want to
go. I think you give him such a good time here that he doesn’t want to miss out.’
‘Well . . . I’ve got one space, so he could stay here if you like, to let you have some time to yourselves.’
She wavered for a moment. Then made her mind up. ‘Thank you very much. It does sound tempting, but no. I think we need some time together as a family, the three of us, to bond
together.’
I wondered how Max’s behaviour might affect the family dynamics. I had a suspicion that he had rocked his parents’ relationship. His mother worked during the day, and his father
worked mostly in the evenings, so maybe they weren’t able to spend much time together.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I hope you all have a really good, relaxing week. I’m sure Max will appreciate having you both to himself.’
They went on the Saturday. But on the Tuesday, I had a phone call.
‘Trisha, is it possible for Max to come back to you tomorrow?’ Vanda sounded more stressed than I’d heard her before.
‘Yes’ I said. ‘But what’s happened? I thought you were going for a week?’
‘We hired a caravan, and he’s totally wrecked it. The whole caravan – totally destroyed.’
‘Max?’ I gasped, in disbelief, trying to picture this toddler wreaking so much havoc.
‘Yes.’ I heard her sharp intake of breath.
‘How awful!’ I sympathised.
‘Yes, it was. And we’ve been in trouble because of it. We had to leave the site yesterday.’ She burst into tears. ‘Mark is absolutely furious,’ she sobbed.
‘Incandescent with rage.’
‘Oh no.’
‘It’s been awful, Trisha. Terrible.’
I didn’t know whether she was talking about Max’s behaviour, the caravan site manager, or her relationship with her husband. Maybe all three.
‘Bring Max tomorrow,’ I said, with a soothing voice. ‘It sounds like you’ve got a lot to sort out. He’ll be fine here.’
‘Thank you so much, Trisha. You’re a rock. I don’t know what I’d do without you at the moment.’ I could tell she was still crying as she put the phone down.
Next morning, in walked Max, with a big smile on his face. He was an absolute poppet, all day long. When it was lunchtime, they all had different coloured bowls or plates. So Max would go and
get his own bowl and carry it proudly to the table. I couldn’t believe this was the same boy who did so much damage on holiday with his parents.
For some time I had been worried that our ‘bush-baby’ Laurel, now nearly five, still hadn’t been put forward for adoption; but now at last it was all being
sorted out.
She was a lovely child with a pretty face and a sunny personality, so we weren’t surprised when a young couple came to meet her, along with her social worker, to start to get to know her
and to see if they’d be a good fit.
I could see it working straight away. They were perfect for Laurel and she for them, as they sat on the playroom floor and played with the toys together. Later, they played outdoor games in the
garden, all three of them enjoying their growing relationship.
‘How long will these visits go on?’ I asked Laurel’s social worker.
‘Oh, several weeks of them seeing her here, then a few more when they can take her out during the day if they want to. Then maybe they’ll do a couple of trial home visits, to see how
that works out. Even if all goes really well, it would probably be the autumn before all the stages are completed and the adoption can go ahead.’
‘Oh, that’s good,’ I said. ‘We are hoping to take all the children on holiday together in the summer. We wouldn’t want to leave Laurel out.’
‘That’s a great idea for the children,’ she said, then gave me a look. ‘But you must be mad! It won’t be much of a holiday for you and Mike with all these kids and
their different needs!’
‘I know, but we’ll love it just as much as they do, playing all day by the sea!’
‘What about Gilroy?’ she asked. ‘How will you manage him? Will the children be safe with him there? Remember what he did to Laurel last year, when he pushed her down the
stairs?’
‘Yes, I know he can be difficult, very up and down, but he’s not been too bad lately, and we’ll keep a close eye on him. He’s part of our family and he deserves a holiday
as much as the others.’
I told Mike about this later.
‘Perhaps we should put reins on Gilroy.’ he suggested with a laugh. ‘Like they used to do with toddlers.’
The summer was approaching and Mike booked two large caravans, adjacent to one another, on our chosen caravan site in Bournemouth for a week. Next, he mapped out the route to
get there, with lots of stopping places with facilities on the way. We didn’t have Satnavs in the 1970s – we had to rely on good old road maps.